


Youngblood

by the_spookable_smoosh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But An Idiot Nonetheless, Dean is a smartass, Dean is an Idiot, F/M, High School, Minor Sexual Assault, Protective Dean Winchester, Young!Dean, an adorable idiot, im a genius, it motivates me to write, please leave comments if you like it, really just a gross teacher, sorta modern AU?? Idk yet, the math is correct btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:15:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_spookable_smoosh/pseuds/the_spookable_smoosh
Summary: Dean and reader attend the same high school while John is working on a case nearby. I'll update weekly (or try to) so bookmark or subscribe or whatever the kids are saying these days.
Relationships: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

"And what, class, is 83 times the supplement of angle ABC in this situation?" The teacher, Mr. Mouser, walked up and down the rows of seats. I had already written the answer. 1,909.  
"Miss Y/L/N, not caring to participate this morning?" I glanced up from my paper to look at Mr. Mouser. His name fit him well. The man looked like a mouse. He had a small nose, beady brown eyes, a pink face, and little to no hair. While he tried to make his voice full, it came out squeaky and small.   
"Would you like me to explain, Mr. Mouser?" His eyes were trailing my face and what was below it. The middle aged man was known around school for being a major creep.  
"Please." Mr. Mouser smiled a disgusting smile. His yellowed teeth poked out from behind his crusty lips.  
I walked up to the chalkboard and began to write.   
"First, we have to start with the supplement of angle ABC. Since ABC is a vertical angle we can be assured that it is congruent to angle DBE. Angle DBE is given to us as 157 degrees which means ABC is 157 degrees. The supplemental to a 157 degree angle is 23 degrees. 23 times 83 is 1909." I run out of breath and set the white chalk down. I turn to see Mr. Mouser's eyes low. Where my ass was two seconds ago.   
"Very well done, Miss Y/L/N. Very well done, indeed." His voice was as oily as his forehead. I began to walk towards my seat but he was blocking my way.   
"Excuse me." I made eye contact with the short man. His eyes were saying what his mouth wasn't. 'If you want to get back to your seat, you're gonna have to squeeze your way through.'   
The bastard was really going to make me do this. I started to squeeze by him when a voice behind me spoke up.   
"Hey, she said excuse me." The voice was quiet but insistent. I turned to look and it was the new kid. He'd been relatively quiet so far but it was only his first week. He didn't look at me. Only past me. Straight at Mr. Mouser.  
I turned back to Mr. Mouser. He looked defeated and moved out of my way. He began talking about something else but I was filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards the new kid. I sat down and pulled out a piece of paper. 

"Thanks new kid  
-girl three seats back"

I threw the paper to him. New kid opened it and scribbled something down. When Mr. Mouser turned around he threw it over his left shoulder. It landed on the floor next to my desk. I picked it up before Mr. Mouser could turn back around.   
  
"Thanks n̶e̶w̶ ̶k̶i̶d̶ Dean  
-girl three seats back"

  
As I fold it back up the note disappears from my hand.   
"What have we here? Passing notes, hm?" Mr. Mouser is standing above me holding the paper. He starts to open it but Dean rips it away - and shoved it in his mouth.   
"What the HELL do you think you're doing, young man?" Mr. Mouser is trying to make up for his lack of intimidation in his physique by raising his voice and using curse words. It doesn't work.  
"I wath hunwee" Dean speaks through the soggy paper in his mouth.   
"Go to the principal's office! Now!" Mr. Mouser points at the door. Dean grabs his bag and starts to walk towards the door. He turns his head and shoots me a wink as he opens the door into the hall, still chewing. 


	2. Chapter 2

The last bell of the day rung. A truly euphoric sound. With the last bell a flood of teens came out of various classrooms. I made my way through the masses of rank smelling teenagers, ready to go home and bury my head in a pillow. Today had been a lot. Sexually harassed by my geometry teacher and saved (?) by a mysterious new kid. 

My locker was just ahead. I stopped in front of it and began to put in my code when a leather jacket hit the locker beside me. 

“Hi.” 

I look up and the new kid - Dean - is there. Inches from my face.

“Hello? Do you need something?” I was confused as to why he was talking to me. Not many people did.

“Do I need to need something? Can’t I just say ‘Hi’ to a pretty girl?” My eyes went wide at his statement. Dean had a pleasant grin on his face.

“Listen, thanks for- whatever that was today, but you don't have to worry about me. I'm good.” I was getting my textbook out of my locker when he yanked it from my hands. The front fell open and it was easy to see my name written sloppily on the inside cover. 

“Y/N, huh? Pretty name.” He shut the book and looked at the front of the cover.

“History of Ancient Myths, Legends and the Art of Storytelling. You a history buff or something?” Dean asks, tucking my book under his arm.

I shut my locker. “Or something.” I walk off towards the front exit.

“Y’know, my dad, he uh, he's a bit of an expert on these kinda things. I could teach you what I know? Maybe over dinner?”

I stopped in my tracks and he kept walking for a few steps before turning around. 

“What, no one ever ask you to dinner before?”

My eyes narrow of their own volition.

“No. Can I have my book back now?”

Dean just stood there. Smiling at me, wanting me to play his game.

“Please?” My voice was strained. Irritated. 

Dean rolled his eyes playfully and handed it back. I shoved the book in my bag. I threw my bag on my back and kept walking towards the bike rack a few feet away. 

“What do you know about Banshees?” Dean shouts from behind me, raising his voice to compete with the hundreds of teenagers around us. I turn to see him standing in the same place.

“What?” My voice doesn't carry as well as his.

Dean stalks toward me, stopping a foot or two in front of me.

“I said,” he spoke softly now, “What do you know about banshees?” 

“I don't. There's very little reliable lore surrounding them. In English, anyway.”

“What if I told you I know all about banshees? And changelings and djinn and ghouls and every other creature you got in that book. And more.” Dean’s tone was unbelievably smug. 

“I'd call you a damned liar. You're what, 17? 18? Why would you know about all this weird folklore?”

I crossed my arms in annoyance. At least I’d like to say I was annoyed, but Dean was really very charming. He was sweet, smart, kind. Everything a girl could dream of. 

“Maybe I'm writing a book on them. Maybe I'm a schizo and I see these things in my dreams. Who knows? But I'll tell you all about them if you go to dinner with me tonight.” Dean smiled a small smile. His cheeks were turned slightly pink. I turned my back on him and got on my bike. He was still standing there.

I bit the inside of my cheek as I stared into his eyes, searching for anything untrue or false. I found nothing. 

“I'm busy tonight. Tomorrow. There's a quiet diner on 37th and Rock. Meet me there at 6:30.” 

I started to pedal away. 

“It's a date.” Dean shouted from the sidewalk. 

“Study date!” I yelled back.

“Still counts!”


End file.
